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F E L B E R G E N G L I S H R E A D E R S

Jesse James,

The Outlaw

Simpli

ﬁ ed edition of a story by

W. B. LAWSON

ELEMENTARY LEVEL

Adaptation and Exercises: Jerzy Siemasz

Series Editor: Adam Wola

ñski

Warsaw 2002

Reviewers:

Aldona Stepaniuk

Ewa Wolañska

Copy editor:

Natica Schmeder

Production editor:

Barbara Gluza

Cover designer:

Andrzej-Ludwik Wïoszczyñski

Illustrator:

Dariusz Miroñski

DTP:

A.L.W. GRAFIK

by FELBERG SJA Publishing House, 2002

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

written permission of the publisher.

Printed in Poland

ISBN 83-88667-12-2

PROLOGUE

Of all the legendary characters of the

American West, few have attracted so much
fascination as Jesse James. An American Robin
Hood or a cold-blooded killer? Perhaps a little
of both.

Born in Kearney, Missouri on September 5,

1847, the son of a Baptist minister, he fought in
the Civil War on the side

of the Confederacy. Some say it was the
cruel treatment from Union soldiers that
turned brothers Frank and Jesse to a life
of crime. A year after the war they robbed
the

ﬁrst bank in peacetime. For the next

15 years, the James boys robbed trains and
banks, building a legend. Jesse married his
own

ﬁrst cousin, Zerelda, who bore him

two children, Jesse Edwards and Mary.
She was buried in the same grave alongside
her man. Jesse reached his Waterloo
in 1876 when his gang tried to rob the bank at North

ﬁ eld,

Minnesota. All except Frank and Jesse were either killed,

“Jesse James was a lad,

Who killed many a man

He robbed the Glendale train.

He took from the rich

And he gave to the poor

He’d a hand, a heart, and a brain.”

(Fragment of a popular folk ballad)

lad facet, go

Ê; the Glendale train pociÈg kursujÈcy do miejscowoci

Glendale; character posta

Ê, bohater (ksiÈki, ﬁ lmu itp.); minister

duchowny; the Confederacy Konfederacja Stanów Po

ïudnia w wojnie

secesyjnej w USA (1860-65); Union Stany Pó

ïnocne w wojnie secesyjnej

wounded, or caught. With a $10,000 reward
on his head, Jesse moved to St. Joseph,
Missouri, called himself Mr. Howard and
started to lead a respectable life. The reward
attracted the Ford brothers, though. And on
April 3, 1882, Robert Ford killed Jesse with
a single bullet to the back of the head. Jesse

was a good father and family man, religious in his own way. It
has never been de

ﬁnitely decided whether he stole from the rich

and gave to the poor, or just kept it all.

reward nagroda; respectable godny szacunku

CHAPTER ONE

In the Robber’s Nest a bullet whistled by my left ear. Bang!
“Won’t you stop now?” shouted a voice behind me. Three

horsemen rode up to me. They had just ridden out of the gate of
a lonely farmhouse. They were three Chicago detectives, who
looked like horse traders—Hawes, Jewell, and Whittaker by name.
They were looking for Jesse and Frank James, the notorious train
robbers and bandits. And they had just visited old Mrs. James’
farmhouse, in the hope of

ﬁnding the two outlaws. There was

a reward of ten thousand dollars for the capture of the bandits.

“Who and what are you, old man?” asked Hawkes, “and why

didn’t you stop when I

ﬁ rst called out to you?”

“I take no orders from you or anyone else,” I answered angrily.

“I am a medical man, of Booneville, on my travels. Now, sir,
who the hell are you?”

I looked back at the farmhouse and noticed the Widow James

looking at us from the porch. Rather than answer my question,
Jewell said, “I’m sorry we’ve been unable to see Jesse James
as yet.” But when he looked back, he suddenly cried out:

“Here are Jesse and Frank James now, right upon us!”
He spoke truly. Two horsemen, followed in a short distance

by a third, had followed us noiselessly on the soft ground. Now
they were only a few steps away from us.

“Put up your hands!” shouted Jesse James, as we came to

a halt.

“Put up your hands,” echoed Frank James.
Paralyzed with sudden panic, Jewell and Whittaker did as told

at once. Hawes, however, decided to die hard, if die he must.

“Not if I know it!” he said, took out his revolver, and

ﬁ red.

His bullet passed through the neck of the third horseman named
Curly Pitts, who fell from his saddle. At the same moment Hawes

whistle czas. gwizda

Ê, rzecz. gwizd; outlaw zïoczyñca, wyjÚty spod

prawa; capture rzecz. schwytanie, czas. schwyta

Ê; widow wdowa; porch

ganek, (amer.) weranda; halt stop; die hard nie da

Ê siÚ ïatwo zabiÊ;

saddle siod

ïo

fell dead, with Jesse James’ bullet in his heart. Then Whittaker
went down, shot dead by the two robber brothers. Jewell, at
this, suddenly turned his horse and galloped away as fast as he
could. Frank James went after him.

“Who are you?” Jesse James asked.
“I am a doctor of Booneville,” said I, “and if you are Jesse

James, I bring you a message from a dying woman—Blanche
Rideau.”

His face changed: “Dying—Blanche Rideau!” he said.

“However, there’s no time for softness now. If you’re a doctor,
see what you can do for my friend Curly.”

I at once got off my horse and began to examine the wounds

of the fallen robber. In the meantime, Frank James returned
empty-handed. I succeeded in reviving Curly Pitts. His face was
paper-white. He could not speak yet, but with my assistance got
on his horse.

“If someone takes care of his wound soon, he will be all right,”

I said.

“Mother will do that,” said Jesse jumping into the saddle.

“Mister, you’ll go with us.”

“There’s nothing I would like better, Mr. James!” I answered

and got back into the saddle too. The way in which I said “Mr.
James!” made both brothers laugh shortly. So we went to the lonely
farmhouse, leaving the dead men where they were. But we led
away their horses with us. We reached the porch, got off our horses,
and the Widow James appeared. She was a tall, masculine-looking
old woman, with a face showing strength of character. Frank James
took the wounded Pitts into the house. Jesse, however, led me to
a little rock behind the house. Although the place looked empty,
I saw armed men at different parts of the farm.

“Now, stranger, for your story,” said Jesse, seating himself on

a fragment of rock. “It’ll be better for you to tell me the truth.”

I took a good look at Jesse now. He was a man of

ﬁ ne

proportions, with his red beard, short hair, steely blue eyes, and
a handsome appearance.

bullet kula; message wiadomo

Ê, przesïanie; wound rzecz. rana,

czas. rani

Ê; revive przywróciÊ przytomnoÊ; beard broda; appearance

powierzchowno

Ê, wyglÈd

“I am a medical practitioner of Booneville, to which I came

from St. Louis six months ago,” I told him.

“Only six months ago?”
“I have made friends with some of the best families, like that

of Judge Rideau. His beautiful daughter, Miss Blanche, was my
patient before she died—”

“Died?” shouted the outlaw, jumping to his feet. “You didn’t

say before that she was dead,” he half-drew one of his revolvers.

“Just before Blanche Rideau died she told me to

ﬁ nd you,

even at the cost of my life, and give you this.”

I handed him a small packet, tied with a blue ribbon. He

snatched it from me. Some time-yellowed letters and things fell
out of it. He turned his back upon me and I heard him kiss the
packet.

At this moment I could easily have shot him dead if I wanted

to. My plan, however, was to

ﬁ nd a way to capture him and his

brother alive. So I just took my time. When he again turned to
me, he shook my hand.

“Listen to a few words, doctor. Six years ago Blanche Rideau

and I were engaged. But the course of our love was interrupted.
Otherwise I’d be a reformed man now. And it was the fault of
Judge Rideau’s brother. He’s a rich bank president somewhere
up in Minnesota now. But I’ll get even with him!” In a moment he
said in a changed voice: “Did any message go with the packet?”

“Yes, she asked me to get you to reform.”
The outlaw laughed. “Look at me, doctor. All the world’s

hand is against me and my hand is against all the world. Let
them come and take me!”

“With half the country people your well-wishers, you stand

a pretty good chance,” said I.

He gave a short laugh.
“Come with me, doc. In fact, you can’t do otherwise now. It’s

one of our rules never to allow a newcomer to go out of our
company until dead sure of his loyalty. You shall accompany
our band while we stay in this part of the country. You can then

draw, drew, drawn tu: wyci

ÈgnÈÊ; ribbon wstÈka; snatch wyrwaÊ;

engage zar

ÚczyÊ siÚ; otherwise w przeciwnym wypadku, inaczej; get

even wyrówna

Ê rachunki; dead sure zupeïnie pewny

judge whether or not you can get me to reform. That was the
dying prayer of poor Blanche Rideau, right?”

I followed him to the house. Inside we found a

ﬁ ne dinner

awaiting us, with the Widow James and two black servants waiting
on us. We sat down with Frank James, Curly Pitts and two other
men. Jesse introduced them to me as his companions. After dinner
Jesse said, “There are two dead men out there on the road. That
may cause us trouble if we don’t hurry.”

In a few minutes, all six of us got in the saddle, and we neared

the road in about an hour. Then we heard a whistle somewhere
far off in the forest on the opposite side of the road. Soon we
saw two young fellows riding across the road toward us. They
led a horse, upon whose back was a man, his hands and legs tied.
To my secret horror, I saw that it was Langman, the

ﬁ fth Chicago

detective. Minutes before we met Jesse and his brother, Hawes
and Whittaker had spoken about him. Luckily, he did not
recognize me.

“Did you

ﬁ nd this one as I ordered, Cutts?” said Jesse.

“The Lamb here did,” the young man answered with a gesture

toward his companion. The latter, Larry the Lamb spoke:

“I tracked him to the telegraph of

ﬁce in the town. He sent off

two telegrams to Chicago. One of them to the name you
mentioned. An hour later we knocked him from his horse. And
here he is!”

At a gesture from the leader, Cutts and the Lamb got off their

horses. They cut Langman’s ties and took him from his horse.
Next they bound him with his back to a tree by the roadside.

“Got anything to say, detective?” called Jesse.
“May my blood be on your heads!”
“One!” said Jesse, at the same time shooting the man through

the body. “Two!” said Frank James, his pistol speaking with equal
precision. “Three!” called out the next in line,

ﬁ ring his pistol.

They kept coolly counting and shooting until one hundred

shots had been emptied into the body. Then Jesse wrote something

recognize rozpozna

Ê; latter drugi z dwóch; track ledziÊ co, kogo;

mention wspomnie

Ê; bind, bound, bound przywiÈzaÊ

on a piece of paper with a pencil. Cutts put it up over the head
of the dead man. The piece of paper read as follows:

Then the outlaw leader gave a signal, and we all galloped up

the road. Upon coming to a crossroads, Cutts and the Lamb rode
off in one direction; the others in another. I alone accompanied
Jesse and Frank up into the depths of a forest road that seemed
to lead nowhere.

Finally, the road brought us to a large clearing. There stood

one of the largest and most comfortable-looking cabins I had
ever seen. Among those who came out to meet us were two
beautiful, even re

ﬁned-looking, young women. To my surprise,

I discovered they were the wives of my companions. I was
introduced to them and the rest simply as ‘doc.’ It was now sunset.
After supper I was glad to accept the bed offered me in a little
room in the back of the house. I slept soundly, but awoke several
times during the night. Whenever I did so I knew that I was
watched.

“Don’t worry, sister. Just wait till I rob a passenger train or

a rich bank. That’s all. Then we’ll go to Texas for peace and
quiet. Run into the house now, and I will soon join you.”

Such were the words I overheard spoken in the garden just

outside my window when I awoke for the last time. The voice
was that of Jesse James,

ﬁnished by a sound like a kiss. I heard

a happy little laugh and footsteps of a man going away. In the
morning I rose, dressed, and went to look for Jesse.

“Good morning, Mr. James,” said I, as I came upon him at

the farthest side of the clearing.

“Doc, I believe I can trust you.”
“I know you can,” said I.

warning ostrze

enie; (into the) depths (w) gïÈb; clearing polana; cabin

chata, (sleep) soundly (spa

Ê) twardo; overhear posïuchaÊ

“How would you like to go into Independence today? Today

is the last of the big county fair. Try to

ﬁ nd out what the public

thinks of Frank and me. Will you promise to come back here—
alone—say at this time tomorrow morning and report? I may
even meet you there this afternoon.”

“Openly?”
“I never went disguised in my life,” said Jesse coolly.
“Would you take such a risk?”
“Yes, I would with this at hand!” and he put his hand on one

of his revolvers. “Come, it’s time for breakfast.”

CHAPTER TWO

Directly after breakfast I rode away. An hour’s gallop brought

me in sight of Independence. But during that hour’s ride I thought
quite a lot. Half of my Booneville story was true. The things
from the dying Blanche Rideau were authentic. But I had never
practised as a doctor. And I had received the letters and other
things from Judge Rideau himself. He was a friend of mine. He
gave me the things in the hope that they would help me in bringing
these criminals to justice. Now they trusted me. If they discovered
the truth, one can imagine what would happen. I was literally
holding my life in my hands. I was risking everything.

I found the town of Independence excited over what had

happened the day before. The

ﬁrst person to recognize me was

Jewell. It was on a side street soon after I put up my horse at the
hotel.

“Stranger, you here and alive? How did those James devils let

you go?”

“Am I a detective?”
“But think of Hawes and Whittaker and the body of Langman

found bound to the tree. I thought they’d murdered you too.”

county fair wielki jarmark w hrabstwie; disguise rzecz. przebranie, czas.
przebra

Ê (siÚ); sight widok; justice sprawiedliwoÊ; excited podniecony;

put up tu: przenocowa